


In Dreams You Are Never Alone

by Nectere



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Imaginary Friends, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nectere/pseuds/Nectere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Children always have an imaginary friends, and miles apart the Starks of Winterfell and the Tyrells of Highgarden alternately worry or dismiss the strange occurrences and coincidences as Margaery and Robb tell stories about their friend in their dreams, or know things they should not. Robb and Margaery don't understand the significance of what they're experiencing, they just know that when they dream, they're never alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Godswood

Willas Tyrell opened the door to the solar and looked about, taking in the image of his four and nine-year-old brothers playing with wooden knights. “Where’s Margaery?” He asked Septa Castan, who sat watching over the two boys. “Father says she still hasn’t come to the sept.”

“Dunno.” Loras answered, as his green knight attacked Garlan’s golden one.

Willas frowned. “I already checked with Grandmother.”

The septa clucked her teeth in concern. “Margaery was very concerned for her mother. I don’t think she’d hide.”

Garlan got to his feet, pudgy and rosy-cheeked. “Is she with Great-Uncle Gorman or mother?”

“No, Mother’s still in isolation.” Willas answered, with a sad frown. Alerie Hightower had lost a baby girl, and each of the family were expected to pray for their mother’s recovery and the soul of the baby.

“Is she getting ready?” Loras asked, screwing up his face, but not dropping his knight. “You know Margaery, she’ll want to look nice to see the gods.”

“I did her hair and tied her sash this morning.” Septa Castan said dismissively. “She’s been ready for hours.”

The three children and their septa quickly started searching the expansive castle for the missing child. Two hours and several servants pulled into the search later, Willas and Olenna finally found Margaery, head bowed in prayer, sitting in the Highgarden godswood, in front of the three great weirwoods.

“Margaery, where have you _been!_ ” Willas demanded with all the authority of the eldest brother. “Father expected you in the sept _hours_ ago!”

Margaery blinked her large brown eyes at her brother, and said with all the logic of a three-year-old: “Why would I go to the sept?”

“To pray for Mother and our baby sister.” Willas answered, perplexed. “Why are you in the garden?”

“I’m in the _godswood._ ” Margaery explained, blinking. “Praying for Mother and our baby sister.”

Willas stopped, blinked at his little sister, and then looked at the three faces in the weirwoods, the heart trees that had been planted by Garth Greenhand and had grown so closely together they were almost one tree. He thought it distinctly creepy. “Come pray at the sept, Margaery.”

“No!” Margaery argued, stubbornly. “I pray here. Robb says the Old Gods hear us here.”

“Who’s Robb?” Olenna asked, curiously.

“My _friend_ .” Margaery said stubbornly. “He has a brother _and_ his mother just had a baby _too_ , and Robb said that his father had gone to their godswood to pray for a girl, and it _was_ , so _I’m_ praying _here_.”

Willas opened his mouth to argue, but Olenna put him off,by raising her wrinkled hand. “Willas, go tell your father Margaery is doing her praying. I’ll stay here with her.”

Margaery gave her grandmother a big smile, and bent her head again to pray as Olenna took a seat on one of the carved benches. She would have to tell Robb tonight when she dreamed that she had prayed in the godswood too, maybe the gods would hear it like they did for his father.


	2. The Glass Gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb confuses his parents by asking questions about the glass gardens.

The Stark family was at dinner, and save for baby Sansa’s fussing when they had first sat down, it was quiet. Robb picked bits of chicken of the bone and finally looked up at his parents. “Father...why are our gardens in glass?”

Eddard Stark looked up from his dinner in surprise, glancing over at his son. “Because of the snow, son.” He replied. “The glass gardens are planted above the hot springs, and the glass keeps in the heat, letting us grow fruit, vegetables, and flowers even in the harshest winters. Without the glass, the snow and cold would kill the plants.”

“Oh.” Robb said after a moment, falling silent again.

“Why do you ask, Robb?” Catelyn wondered.

“Margie had never heard of a garden in glass.” Robb explained, taking a bite of his roll. “They have gardens everywhere. She wondered if they would escape. I told her it was silly, and she got all puffed up and wanted to know _why_ , if it wasn’t a cage.”

Catelyn was confused. “Who’s Margie?”

Robb finished off his roll with a shrug. “Margie’s... _Margie_.” he said finally.  He gestured with his hand. “She’s about _this_ tall and has brown hair, but not brown like Father, brown like nutmeats, and brown eyes.” He became even more animated, talking excitedly about his friend. “She has _three_ older brothers. She was gonna have a baby sister like Sansa, but the baby died.”

Robb looked worriedly at the baby in his mother’s arms. “Nothing’s gonna happen to Sansa is it?”

“No, nothing’s going to happen to Sansa.” Eddard reassured him. “She has you and Jon to look out for her, after all.”

At breakfast the next morning, Robb seemed irritated. He didn’t even wait for everyone to sit down, ambushing his father at the door when he walked into the room. “I don’t know how to explain snow!” He groused. “It’s just... _snow_!”

Ned laughed and lifted the three-year-old up and carried him to the table, sitting him down in his usual seat. “Why are you trying to explain snow, Robb?”

Robb sighed, nose scrunched up. “Margie’s never seen snow.” He explained, as if it were the most logical thing to say in Winterfell’s dining room. “I told her what you said about the glass gardens, but she didn’t understand. She says no matter how cold it is, her gardens are always green.”

“No one’s come to Winterfell and not seen snow.” Jon said, confused. “Why didn’t you just take her outside?”

“Cause I don’t know _how_.” Robb said, pouting.

Catelyn smiled, remembering her childhood in the Riverlands. They had snows only once in a great while. “Before I came to Winterfell, I had never seen much snow, and to see it in the North is something altogether different.” She tried to remember her first impressions of Winterfell snows. “Snow is like white, frozen, fluffy rain that lays on the ground like leaves, getting taller and taller as it falls.”

Robb gave his mother a beaming smile. “Thanks Mother.” he said, tucking into his breakfast.

“Where’s your friend from, Robb?” Ned asked, curious. He knew they had had no guests at Winterfell since dinner last night.

“Dunno.” Robb replied. “Somewhere green, with fountains. The halls are marble and everything echoes.”

“Hmm.” Catelyn hummed, and breakfast conversation turned, at least until the two boys had been taken by Maester Luwin for their lessons. “What’s going on, Ned? Why is Robb talking about meeting a girl he could have never met?”

“It’s probably just an imaginary friend, Cat.” Ned reassured her, though he wasn’t too certain himself. Benjen had one for ages.”

Hmm.” Cat hummed again, unconvinced.


	3. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery browbeats her parents through cuteness to take her to see snow for her nameday.

“What about a new pony. Wouldn’t you like a new pony for your nameday?”

“No!” The newly four-year-old Margaery said, pouting. “I want to go see _snow_. You promised I could have whatever I wanted for my nameday.” The last half of this declaration turned sad, as she looked up at her parents with tears in her brown eyes.

“What if I let you train with Loras for a year?” Mace bargained, knowing that his daughter found her brothers’ training interesting, and felt left out.

Margaery considered this, but only for a minute. She was sure Robb would train with her if she asked. “No!” She said, lip wobbling. “I want _snow!_ Robb’s told me all about it, and I want to see it!”

“I could write Lynesse.” Alerie said, thoughtfully. “She has been awfully lonely. A visit might cheer her.”

Mace sighed. He enjoyed the warmth and the opulence of The Reach, and he didn’t understand why his daughter was so obsessed with the idea of snow and the frozen North. This struggle had been going on for two weeks. He had tried to ply her with everything from new dresses and books, to a new doll, and even going out with the hawking, but nothing had worked. He looked down at Margaery again, who was looking up at him hopefully. “Oh, all right!”

* * *

 The trip northward was fascinating for all the children, who had not seen much beyond The Reach. Garlan had gone off to foster with the Red-Apple Fossoways, but even that was still in The Reach.

Margaery glided around, refusing to stay in the wheelhouse with her mother, riding about with her father or doubled up with Willas for much of the journey. She amused her father and many of his men on the ship to Bear Island, running from one side to the other, often exclaiming “Look at this! Look at this!”

Margaery was enchanted as they approached the wood-walled keep, eyes wide, ignorant of how Mace and Alerie were entirely uncertain about how nice such a place could be.

Margaery was very glad to meet her Aunt Lynesse, who looked very much like Alerie, and said all the right words, but she was fascinated by her Uncle Jorah. As Lynesse had taken her parents to their accommodations, He had regaled her and her brothers with tales of Robert’s Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion. She had hung on every word, even when her brothers had gone to visit the practice yard with the knights of the house.

Jorah assured Mace he didn’t mind, and when the time came, even tucked her into bed in one of the guest rooms.

“Uncle Bear?” Margaery asked, with a yawn, as he finished the tale of how Rodrik Stark had wrestled an Ironborn and won Mormont Keep, only to give it to his loyal knight.

“No more stories.” Jorah said with a chuckle. “It’s time for little roses to go to sleep.”

Margaery screwed up her nose, but nodded. “Uncle Bear, when Loras goes away to foster, can I come and foster here with you and Aunt Lynesse? I’ll be really good, I promise.”

Jorah’s expression softened, and he pulled the fur coverlet up further, tucking it around her neck. “If your parents say yes, and you still want to, I don’t see why not.”

“Promise?” Margaery asked, snuggling into the covers.

“I promise.” Jorah agreed. “As long as your parents agree.”

“Okay.” Margaery said happily. “Will you show me the godswood in the morning, Uncle Bear? I want to make sure the Old Gods know I want to come back.”

Jorah was surprised by this. Lynesse’s family followed The Seven and he was sure the Tyrells did as well. “You pray in the godswood?”

“Mhmm.” Margaery hummed with a nod. “Robb taught me. I think the Old Gods listen better.” She lifted her head and kissed Jorah’s bearded cheek. “When I dream tonight, Uncle Bear, I’m gonna tell Robb _all_ about Bear Island and _snow_ and how you’re the best storyteller, even better than the singers at Highgarden!”

Jorah was confused, but his heart melted nonetheless. He had always wanted children, but it had not happened yet. Now, with Lynesse he had another chance, and if the gods decreed it wouldn’t happen...maybe he could be content being ‘Uncle Bear.’ “Sleep well, Margaery.”


	4. Decorating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb tries his hand at decorating and Ned wonders.

Robb had his father curious. Eddard had tried to soothe Catelyn’s fears about his ‘imaginary friend,’ but he had his own suspicions. Benjen had demanded that Ned return from Robert’s Rebellion alive and well so that he could leave Winterfell and take the Black. He had completely refused Rickard’s plans to marry Benjen off to a Royce or a Westerling, and only Rickard’s superstitious Northern nature prevented him from fighting his son once he had declared he would join the Night’s Watch. Ned could remember a young Benjen morose and depressed because his imaginary friend had  _ died _ . He had accompanied his family to Harrenhal rather than remaining in Winterfell as an attempt to cheer him up and in everything that had come after Ned had forgotten Benjen’s imaginary friend until now. 

Robb’s strange behaviour did not stop after needing to explain snow. He would still mention ‘Margie,’ as if it was the most normal thing in the world, dropping it into conversation, but not to the same degree. At least, not until he had his mother if he could have one of the vases decorating the solar at breakfast.

“What on earth do you want it for?” Catelyn asked in amusement. 

“‘M decorating.” Robb answered, mouth full of breakfast, making Catelyn smile at her eldest and agree.

Shortly after breakfast, Ned spotted a fur-covered lump moving in the hallway outside his chambers, and curious, followed. The lump was, in fact, Robb dragging one of the winter furs out of storage and down the hall toward his room. He had placed the fur on his head and was dragging it along behind him. Eddard as surprised when he stopped not at his room, but the empty chamber beside it. Robb let the fur fall for a moment in order to open the door before pulling it inside. 

Ned waited a moment before following his son into the room. Robb had obviously been hard at work ‘decorating,’ as the vase sat on a low table, filled with some of the easier to pick flowers from the glass gardens, all at different sizes, a strange untamed kind of bouquet. Some of Robb’s toys had been arranged around the room, and the bed had had several blankets added to it, as well as a child could do. He watched in amusement as Robb attempted to pull the heavy fur onto the bed, not noticing his father in the doorway as he tugged and pulled.

Robb looked up in surprise as the fur he was trying to arrange suddenly became lighter, and saw his father arrange it easily on the bed. “Thank you, Father.”

“You’re welcome, Robb.” Ned replied with a smile. “Now, what are you doing, decorating in here?”

Robb looked at the floor for a minute. “Nothin’.”

“Robb.” Ned said in warning. “We’ve discussed how lying is wrong.”

Robb frowned, but nodded, looking up at his father. “I just don’t want to upset Mother.”

Ned frowned. “You can tell me.” He offered instead. He probably should tell Catelyn, but their relationship was still rocky. She still had feelings for Brandon, guilt for marrying him and starting to enjoy his company, while still holding on to anger at him for Jon having arrived at Winterfell before she and Robb, and even for Jon’s existence. He could have explained, but he had promised Lyanna and he didn’t think Catelyn had forgiven him for how he had frightened her when she had mentioned Ashara Dayne. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her that Brandon wouldn’t have been faithful to her either. 

“Margie came north to visit family and see snow.” Robb explained. “She asked for snow for her nameday. I thought maybe if I got a room all nice, she could come and visit, since we’re in the north too!”

Ned chuckled at this and patted his son on the head. “If she comes to visit, it’s a very nice room, and I get a raven, I’ll accept for you.”

Robb gave him a big smile, and he reminded himself to ask Benjen’s advice the next time his brother had leave to visit.


	5. Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jorah takes Margaery to the godswood, where she makes a stunning (to her mind) discovery.

Margaery let out a childish and highly undignified squeal into Jorah Mormont’s hair as she rode on his shoulders to the godswood the next morning. She was too big for her siblings to carry around, her father was always busy with one thing or another, and Great-Uncle Garth was always busy and _smelled bad_ besides. 

Jorah had to hide his grin at Margaery’s enthusiasm for everything and everyone. She greeted _anyone_ she saw, servant or highborn alike with a bright smile and hello, and excitedly pointed out sights that had become mundane in his normal life. Her chattered slowed to an awed gasp as they approached the godswood of Mormont Keep. The great weirwood that was the heart-tree was large and gnarled, with a knowing expression on it’s aged female face. 

“Can you put me down, please, Uncle Bear?” Margaery requested, respectfully. 

Jorah acquiesced and smiled to himself as he watched Margaery go up to the tree, and knit her hands together, bowing her head respectfully. He couldn’t hear what she was saying and didn’t try. He knew she was just a child, but she seemed so serious and solemn that it seemed wrong. He did stifle a laugh behind a cough when he saw her  _ curtsy _ to the tree, but wiped his face of expression when she turned around and skipped back over to him. “Can I have another ride, Uncle Bear?”

“Of course, Margaery.” Jorah answered, swinging her back onto his shoulders as she giggled. “Where would you like to go next, my little rose?”

“Can I see your gardens, Uncle Bear?” Margaery asked excitedly. She loved gardens, seeing things grow and thrive. Every garden was a little different and said something about the gardeners.

Jorah frowned. “I’m afraid we don’t have gardens on Bear Island, Margaery. It’s too cold.”

Margaery’s eyes widened, and the shock showed in her voice, even if he couldn’t see her face. She had never seen or heard of a place without gardens. “Not even behind _glass_?”

Jorah shook his head. “The frost and snow would kill any of your mother’s roses.”

Margaery double-blinked. “You should go to Winterfell and ask for help making glass gardens, Uncle Bear! Robb says they keep all the plants warm and safe, and can grow food and flowers year round!” She dangled her head down into his eyeline, smiling upside-down at him. “Flowers make everyone happy! And you can grow food and things and sell or trade it, like we do at Highgarden! Aunt Lynesse loves lilies best, Mother says.”

Jorah considered that. He didn’t know much about glass gardens or what went into them. “I don’t know…” he said slowly. He knew Lynesse wasn’t happy in Mormont Keep, or on Bear Island. The romance of their whirlwind courtship had worn off quickly, but he still loved her and wanted to keep her happy. If he did something like create gardens for her, brought a little of the south north for her, she'd be happier. As much as he hated to ask anyone for help, he could also see advantages to glass gardens on the island, where life was hard, and the ironborn still risked raids now and then. 

“I bet Father and Mother would even send Aunt Lynesse and you seedlings to start, once they’re built!” Margaery enthused. “Maybe you could be the first place in the North to grow something!” 

Jorah laughed, taking the plan and running with it. He had already been spending more than he liked, but this was one expenditure that could have a serious return. He plucked the girl from his shoulders and once she was back on her own two feet, began to tickle her. “You’re a very clever little girl, you know that? You could give some soldiers I’ve known a run for their money. “

Margaery dissolved into laughter, dodging away amid laughter. “ _ Uncle Bear _ !” She protested, albeit weakly, amid giggles. “ _ That tickles _ !”

Jorah gave a laugh, feeling lighter himself, and giving chase hunched over like he was an actual bear, playing like he hadn’t done since he was a boy sent off to squire.


	6. Tournaments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb asks Eddard about tournaments.

Any talk of imaginary friends had gone quiet after Robb had morosely informed his father that Margie had not been able to convince her father or her uncle to come visit and bring her with them. Ned couldn’t really blame them, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d want to randomly show up at someone’s home either. He still caught Robb adding things to the bedroom he had made up, as if hopeful it might still happen, but he hadn’t explicitly said anything more. That was, until breakfast about a month later.

“Father, can I be in a tourney when I’m thirteen?” Robb asked, excitedly.

Catelyn paled, and Eddard stopped with a bite halfway between his plate and his mouth. He very carefully put it back down, and settled his son with a serious look. “Thirteen is very young to start competing in tournaments.” he said slowly. “And I don’t like tournaments. They make war a game, and are exceedingly dangerous. Why do you ask?”

Robb poked at his breakfast. “Margie’s oldest brother is going to compete in his first tourney today.” He answered slowly.

“And he’s thirteen.” Eddard guessed.

“Uh huh!” Robb agreed with a nod.

Ned sighed slightly. “Thirteen is too young in my opinion.” He said solidly. “Tournaments are full of knights with multiple victories to their names, who would think it fun to target a newcomer. _If_ you continue your work with Jory and Mikken, I will consider allowing you entry when you are older.” He held up a hand to stall any arguments. “I make no promises, however. Your life and health are more important to me than false glory.”

“Yes, Father.” Robb agreed.

Eddard let out a sigh of relief and nodded to Catelyn, who beamed at him for his words. He just hoped this question wouldn’t become routine with tournament season upon them.

* * *

 The next morning, Robb arrived at breakfast looking down. He looked at his family and announced: “I don’t want to be in tournaments anymore, Father.” He dropped into his chair with this pronouncement as if yesterday he hadn’t been excited about the idea.

Eddard raised an eyebrow, slightly concerned. “Why not, Robb?”

Robb’s eyebrows drew in. “You were right, Father. They’re too dangerous.”

“Is Margie’s brother all right?” Jon asked, hiding his grin behind his cup.

“No.” Robb answered, shaking his head.

“What happened?” Ned asked worriedly, getting strange looks from everyone else at the table.

Robb, however, didn’t notice, and answered morosely, stirring his porridge. “He was unhorsed by the Red Viper, but his foot caught in the stirrup and when he fell, he pulled the horse down on top of him.”

Jon let out a hiss in sympathy, and Eddard winced. “Will he live?”

“Yes.” Robb said with a frown. “But he won’t walk properly ever again. Margie was terrified. She says she doesn’t want me to compete in tournaments, because she couldn’t bear if anything happened to me.”

Theon snorted, but the rest of the table was solemn. Story or not it brought close to home the dangers of tournaments and the world they lived in. Eddard reached over and patted his son on the shoulder. “I never competed in a tourney, Robb. They aren’t _necessary_.” If anyone else noticed that his young son had named Prince Oberyn Martell by his tourney name, no one brought it up.


	7. Mocking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Olenna hears something interesting and reaches out to the other side of Westeros.

Olenna Tyrell had perfected the art of fading into the background at a young age, and even now, as old as she was, she had not lost her touch. It was a necessary skill to keep an eye on things at Highgarden, not the least of which to ensure the children were developing as proper roses should. 

That was how Olenna came across one of the Hightower cousins that Alerie had visiting, tormenting poor Margaery. Another grandmother might have stepped in, but Olenna Tyrell was not some sweet old biddy. She would, if it became necessary, of course, she would hardly let any  _ harm _ come to the young girl, but she was pragmatic, and Margaery needed to grow her own thorns. She had a large heart, unlike Olenna herself, and needed to learn to guard it. 

“My mother says you’ll be as fat as Garth the Gross if you keep stuffing yourself the way you do.” The girl catted at Margaery. “I think you best stop having desserts, Margaery, else Aunt Alerie and Uncle Mace will have you to become a septa.”

Margaery’s face was red, and her eyes were brimming with tears. “Mother wouldn’t!” Margaery argued. “They love me!” She wiped her hands over her eyes in denial. 

“Mama says no one’s going to want an ugly bride, ‘specially when you have so many brothers ‘fore you get anything.” Olene Tyrell confessed like a secret. “Maybe you can make yourself beautiful, like Aunt Alerie.”

“Don’t give her false hope, Oley.” The Hightower advised. 

Margaery ran out of the room in tears. Olenna wanted to follow her, she did have some sort of maternal care for her grandchildren, of course, but the world could be far crueller than a few girl-children repeating things they had heard from adults. It was likely true that Margaery would never be a great beauty, as Olenna herself had been or even as beautiful as her mother, but Olenna suspected that when the baby fat fell away and allowed the girl’s natural grace to come out that she would be both pretty and interesting, which could be just as valuable, and far less likely to fade. She’d have to keep a closer eyes on the girls, though, it was a fine line to walk, to ensure that Margaery maintained her self-worth in the long run.

It was no surprise then, that Olenna found herself watching the girl-children again the next day. Margaery had seemed well enough that morning, even cheerful as she had her morning juice and eggs and pastries, but the interesting thing came later, in the children's solar.

“Look Oley, it’s Septa Margaery.” Desmera giggled with Olene and the Hightower girl,  Anka, Olenna thought. “Sure you don’t want another pastry, Septa?”

Margaery smiled her crooked smile at the girls. “I’m not going to be a Septa.” She seemed much more confident than the day before. 

“The Maesters don’t take girls, you know, Margaery.” Anka teased. 

Margaery stood a little taller. “I’m going to marry the heir of Winterfell and future Warden of the North. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll even let you come and play in the snow...but maybe not. Robb says he doesn’t like people who are mean to me.” With that, Margaery picked up her embroidery. “I’m going to visit Willas.”

Olenna watched her leave, her eyebrows still as high as they could go. She knew for a fact that her oaf of a son hadn’t been looking for marriage contracts, and if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have looked to the Starks who isolated themselves at the top of the world. She left her corner and headed for her office. She had known something was happening with Margaery ever since Olenna had found her praying in the Godswood. Now she knew something of what was going on, though she didn’t know how. 

She groaned as she sat in her padded chair, reaching for a piece of paper. The sooner things were out in the open and settled the better. She had just seen the fledgling sparks of authority in Margaery, and she wasn’t going to let her granddaughter lose that.

_ Lord Stark, _   
_ I know that we have never had the pleasure to be formally introduced and as such this letter is quite improper, but I hope you will forgive an old woman social niceties in her twilight years... _


	8. Lessons Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ned receives a letter and confronts his son.

Ned shook the snow from his cloak, removing his gloves before heading towards his office. The Myrish glass he had ordered for Jorah Mormont had come in and he would be heading to White Harbour the next day to check it over and have it sent on to Bear Island. He climbed the stairs to the library tower, and stopped as he heard Jon and Robb at lessons with Maester Luwin. 

“House….Mallister.” Jon said after a moment, struggling. 

“Sigil?”

“Um…a silver eagle on a violet field. Words, ‘Above The Rest.’”

“Indigo.” Maester Luwin corrected gently. “Let’s move on from the Riverlands. Robb?”

“House Tyrell, descended from Garth Greenhand.” Robb said easily and without prompting. “Sigil, a golden rose on a green field. It’s words are ‘Growing Strong.’ Led by Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, Warden of the South. Married to Alerie Hightower, with four children: Willas, Garlan, Loras and Margaery.”

This seemed to shock Maester Luwin as much as it did Ned. Ned wasn’t even sure his son knew all  _ his _ titles. He was fairly certain he knew why, though. His ‘imaginary friend.’ When he spoke of her, he called her ‘Margie,’ which was a common shortening for ‘Margaery,’ and he didn’t know Mace Tyrell well, but he seemed the sort of man who would put a thirteen-year-old in the lists. 

He continued to his office, distracted from his duties yet again by the mystery of his young son’s mysterious knowledge. He was glad that he had written Benjen and asked him to visit. He needed answers. He sat behind his desk with a sigh, only to notice a new letter on his desk. Hoping it was from his brother, he ripped it open.

It wasn’t from Benjen. Ned read the letter twice in a strange combination of shock and expectation, as if he knew something like this was coming. This only confirmed his thoughts of Robb and Jon’s lessons. He put the letter aside and moved back into the library, where the boys were continuing their lessons. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Maester Luwin, but may I see Robb for a moment?”

Ned could tell his son was worried as he jumped down from his chair and followed his father back into his office. When the boy had sat across from the desk, Ned sat as well. “I had a letter from Olenna Tyrell today.”

Robb’s eyes snapped up in surprise. “Is Margie okay? The mean girls didn’t do anything to her, did they?”

“She’s fine.” Ned reassured his son. “Apparently her grandmother overheard her telling her cousins about you.”

Robb looked unhappy. “Were they making her cry again?”

“It sounds as though they were trying.” Ned admitted, thoroughly unimpressed with how Olenna had seemed to not only take the mocking without interfering and teaching the children otherwise, but unsurprised. Still, he had hope she wasn’t quite as harsh as stories had painted her. “Apparently she let them amazed after announcing that she was going to marry the Heir of Winterfell.”

“Good.” Robb groused. “She should have stuffed a pastry in their mouths too.”

“Robb.” Ned said seriously. “That’s hardly proper behaviour for a young man  _ or _ a young lady of noble birth.” He steepled his fingers and looked at his son. “I find it amazing though, that I had to learn about your apparent engagement from a woman I’ve never met, however.”

Robb looked down, abashed. “It...it wasn’t really like that.” Robb said, flushing. “It was just...Margie was  _ crying _ , Father. They said her parents would send her away to be a septa ‘cause no one would want to marry her because she ate pastries…” Robb looked up at this, fully confused. “Which is  _ silly _ , because Old Nan makes pastries all the time, and Mother eats them.” 

It was very hard for Ned not to laugh. He could see how this had happened, and it was adorable, if problematic. He was a man of his word, and he wanted his sons to be the same. Honour was important, and if in some childish sense of chivalry Robb had sworn to marry a girl, it might very well happen. “What happened then?”

“I hugged her while she cried.” Robb said, sighing. “I do that a lot. Like when her baby sister died or when Willas was hurt after his tourney.” He frowned, looking at his father. “It hurts when Margie cries. So I told her not to cry, that I’d marry her, and then she’d be a great lady of Winterfell, like Mother.” 

Ned sighed. He didn’t want to play his children as Rickard had done with them, deals and agreements to people they had never met, all with politics in mind. This wasn’t quite like that, though. While Robb had never met Margaery Tyrell in person, he had no doubt he knew her. Still, he wasn’t ready to start offering marriage contracts yet. “Before, you wanted Margie to come and visit, and I promised you if I got a raven I would say yes. Would you like me to offer the Tyrells to come visit?”

Robb’s eyes went wide, and he nodded so hard Ned worried his eyes might roll out of his head. “Oh yes, Father!”

“Very well.” Ned agreed. “I will send a raven after I make sure everything is arranged at White Harbour and discuss it with your mother.”

“Thank you, Father!” Robb said, with a big grin on his face. “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“See that you are.” Ned said with a smile. “And now you must return to your lessons. I’m sure Maester Luwin and Jon are missing you.”


	9. Hidden Motives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery secretly crafts a gift for Robb.

Margaery was overjoyed when her grandmother told her in whispers that if she had her way, the entire family would be going to visit Robb and his family before long. Having been raised in Highgarden, Margaery had full faith in her grandmother. Olenna always got her way. However, she had cautioned Margaery that she mustn’t say anything to anyone else, or it might not happen. Wanting to go see Robb and Winterfell in real life more than almost anything, Margaery took this firmly to heart and felt proud that she had what Olenna called ‘her first true political intrigue,’ at such a young age. It meant, though, that she had to prepare without letting anyone in on what she was doing: a tall order for her, but she would learn.

Her first decision was while sitting with Willas. She enjoyed spending time with her eldest brother. The fact that he was nine years older meant that he often filled the role of protector and mentor. He didn’t have issues with her sitting in on his lessons or his readings if she stayed quiet, and more than once Maester Lomys would look up at the end of his lesson and be startled that Margaery was in the room, sitting in her golden upholstered chair with her needlework. Great-Uncle Garth never missed her presence and would often speak to her in asides when touching on things he thought useful for a noblewoman running a household.  It was after one of these lessons that she was struck by inspiration, and decided to make a gift for Robb. Excited,  Margaery wandered up to the desk after Uncle Garth had left and put on her most adorable expression. 

“Willas…”

“Whatever it is, no.” Willas said, turning a page in a chronicle.

Margaery pouted. “You didn’t even let me ask.”

Willas sighed, and raised his head to look at his sister. “Do you promise whatever you’re thinking won’t get either of us into trouble?” 

Margaery nodded enthusiastically. “It’s nothing bad.”

Willas sighed, shifting his weight slightly off of his leg as he moved back in his chair. “Okay, what is it?”

Margaery bit her lip and moved over to the table, which was strewn with papers, books and history accounting for the stewardship and running of Highgarden and the Reach over the centuries. She reached out and ran her hand over the little leather ledger that accounted the major transactions and inventories of the Great House. It was small so that it could be carried around in a pocket and consulted at a moment’s notice, and both Great-Uncle Garth and Willas had them. “Can I have two ledgers? I want to practise taking inventory in the kitchens and my coins, so I can be a good wife someday, like Great-Uncle Garth suggests.”

Willas looked down at his sister, having a feeling that she was trying to get one over on him, but unsure of how. She was right, the request wasn’t anything  _ bad _ , and wouldn’t get either of them into trouble. “Okay, fine.” He agreed. “ _ But,  _ you’ll have to check in regularly.” He opened his desk drawer, and thumbed through pads and pens until he found two of the little ledgers, and handed them to her. “Remember, carry one with you. You never know when things might come up.”

Margaery wrapped her arms around her brother’s neck carefully, embracing him. Ever since his injury, she was careful, afraid of hurting him. “Oh, thank you, Willas!”

“Go on, go play house.” Willas said, tweaking her hair. “I expect a thorough report.”

Margaery did a thorough inventory of the kitchen, much to the amusement of the staff, as well as to the coins she had saved up from gifts and when her father let the siblings roam as they liked at market. The other ledger, however, stayed pristine, as Margaery struggled through her letters and penmanship with Olenna, who was not a particularly patient teacher. Usually Septa Castan would have been helping her, but Margaery was afraid that the septa would figure out her secret, which left only Grandmother as a teacher. Finally, after what felt like ages of work, she opened the little book and wrote inside it with painstaking pen strokes, unwilling to make a single error. 

The last portion of the gift was even more frustrating than the penmanship. While Margaery was a fair hand with her stitches, she like all her cousins, learned on easy cotton cloth. Moving those skills to silk was proving quite difficult, and left the littlest Highgarden rose in tears multiple times, or  _ worse _ , cursing like Butterbumps, which had gotten her a stern talking to from Septa Castan and meant she couldn’t go riding with Loras. Margaery minded her tongue better, and persevered through four ruined silk ribbons, until finally,  _ finally _ , her gift was entirely finished. Just in time too, because Father announced not two days later that the Warden of the North had invited them for a visit, and afterwards they would be taking seeds and saplings to Aunt Lynesse on Bear Island. 

Margaery was so excited, she couldn’t sleep that night, even though she desperately wanted to dream.


	10. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ned thinks about Benjen's letter while shopping with Robb for the approaching visit.

White Harbour was a bustling city, the main port of The North and Ned Stark was glad, for once, to be walking in the market among the busy stalls. Catelyn was cross with him for inviting the Tyrells to Winterfell without discussing it with her first. Ned was not required or expected to do so, as Lord of Winterfell it was his decision if he invited people to visit, but he had taken care to involve his wife in much of the decision-making of the household. Catelyn felt slighted and home had gained a slightly more icy chill -- at least for the moment. So, when she had made some comments about things they would need to host, he had offered to go to White Harbour and get whatever she thought she would need. He had debated on whether or not to tell Catelyn the why the visit was happening and the truth about Robb’s imaginary friend, but then the letter from Benjen finally came. 

Benjen reminded Ned about how Lyarra had been concerned about his dream-friend, much as Catelyn was. He explained that as a boy he had made the mistake of telling his mother the truth and she had Maester Walys ‘inspect’ Benjen, thinking his dream-friend was not worthy of him. and it was after this disagreement that Walys and Lyarra had pushed Rickard’s ambitions and led to the decision of Brandon and Lyanna’s engagements and extending Ned’s fosterage in The Vale. While Ned didn’t think that Catelyn and his mother were particularly alike, there was no doubt in his mind that she was just as protective of her children. It would be harder to dismiss or ignore what was happening if it was right in front of their faces. 

Besides, he wasn’t contracting marriage, and Robb was happy. He was so happy that Ned had to keep a hand in Robb’s cloak either to slow him down from running ahead, or to speed him up when he was pondering over something being  _ just right _ . 

“There’s going to be music, right?” Robb asked. “They love music. There’s always music somewhere.”

“It won’t be constant, son, but yes.” Ned answered, in a tone of longsuffering amusement. 

“I’m glad we don’t have a fool like Butterbumps, Margaery’s grandmother thinks ‘a lord with a fool shows he is a fool.’” Robb quoted. He chattered on happily through the market, until he stopped at a stall, eyes fixed on a bracelet. It was made of white crystal beads, with one perfect pearl bead in the center. He gently reached out and touched the pearl bead. 

Ned resisted the urge to sigh. “Would she like it?”

“Margaery means pearl.” Robb said, in answer. “And the other beads look like ice.”

“You have to use the coin I gave you when we left.” Ned warned. “And that will mean no candy for you and Jon.”

Robb nodded, and before long he had a bracelet wrapped in cloth hidden in a pocket. It was worth giving up the treats he had planned to bring home for he and his brother. He just hoped Margaery liked it as well as he thought she would. It had taken nearly all the money that Father had given him for market, though he still bought Jon a stick of candy with the few pennies he had left. He didn’t need it. He’d rather see Margie smile. 

They arrived back at Winterfell with the wagon laden down with supplies that Ned usually thought frivolous. They left Vayon Poole to see everything to where it was supposed to be, and headed inside to wash up for dinner. Both Ned and Robb were surprised to see someone else at dinner. 

“Benjen!” Ned greeted, embracing his brother warmly. “I’m glad to see you, though I’m surprised the Lord Commander let you get away.”

Benjen chuckled. “I may have mentioned that you were entertaining the Tyrells, hoping to better ties between the North and The Reach. The Lord Commander thought I might be able to convince Lord Tyrell to send men or supplies to the wall.”

Ned knew that wasn’t the only reason his brother had come, and he smiled warmly at him. The fact that he would go to all the work to be here for Ned and Robb, especially since even writing of his own experiences seemed stilted and difficult. “Good.” Things were looking up. Perhaps this visit would start a new friendship between The North and The Reach. 


	11. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Tyrells arrive at Winterfell.

Margaery was trying very hard to sit in the wheelhouse patiently, like a lady. It was even more difficult than sewing silk. She fidgeted again in her travelling dress, peering out the latticed windows. “May I ride for a bit?” Margaery pleaded to her mother and grandmother, trying not to pout. “ _Please?_ ”

Alerie sighed, rubbing her forehead and wrapping her fur closer around her body in the chill of the wheelhouse. “If you ride sidesaddle and stay with Willas.”

Margaery barely resisted the urge to make a face. She hated riding sidesaddle when everyone else was riding astride, but agreeing would get her out of the wheelhouse, which is what she wanted. “Yes, Mother.”

Olenna used her cane to firmly tap the ceiling of the wheelhouse and with several calls the party came to a stop, allowing Margaery to slip out of the wheelhouse and onto her silver palfrey, in between Willas and Loras.

“You lasted longer than I thought you would.” Loras teased. “Too bad Garlan isn’t here to see you, all sidesaddle like a lady! He wouldn't know who you are.”

Margaery stuck her tongue out at her closest brother, and straightened her back slightly, deciding to ignore his ribbing. “I wanted to see more.” She said instead. “I’m going to live in the North someday.”

* * *

 The announcement that the party had been spotted on the Kingsroad ratcheted the action of the household up several notches, and Catelyn dressed in one of her finer dresses in the solar, turned to look at her husband and decided to try one last time. “I don’t know what you’re planning, Ned, but you’re Ned Stark, best friend of the king and one of the leaders of Robert’s Rebellion. If you show favour to the Tyrells, so will others.”

Ned put his book aside and stood. “They bent the knee, Cat. Robert allowed them to retain their positions. The war is long over, and winter is coming.”

“They sided with the king that killed Brandon!” Catelyn said angrily, raising her voice. “The king that killed your father, the prince that kidnapped your sister!”

Ned opened his mouth, about to point out that many people took the Targaryen side during the war, but a little voice stopped him.

“The dragons gave them their home and their titles, even though other Houses had more right to The Reach. They kept House Florent from killing them to take over Highgarden. They were only stewards before the dragons. They owed them loyalty, whether they felt it was right or wrong.”

Ned and Catelyn both turned, to see Robb standing there, fidgeting with a wolf-pelt fur around his shoulders. “I can’t get this to latch.”

Ned sighed and went over to his son, kneeling to help him with the fur, and making sure it was tight. “There you are. Why don’t you go make sure Uncle Benjen is ready.”

* * *

 “How are you, Princess?” Mace Tyrell asked Margaery as she settled her horse beside his white charger in the lead of the group. She had been asked to stay with Loras and Willas, but her father had called her over, and trying her best to be a good daughter, she obeyed. It always made her feel strange when her father called her ‘princess.’ She had no right to the title. And he always had a gleam in his eye when he said it.

“I’m excited, Father.” Margaery said, with a wide smile. “Winterfell was built during the Age of Heroes by Bran the Builder, and you’ve spoke before on how strong and honourable a warrior Lord Stark is.”

“Yes, and he is very close to the king.” Mace agreed.

Margaery nodded enthusiastically. “His heir is my age and named after the king.”

“Is he?” Mace said in surprise.

Margaery managed not to make a face. Was that not common knowledge? She had been resisting mentioning Robb since Olenna had suggested that if anyone knew they might not visit Winterfell, but surely they would not turn around when they were so close? “Yes.”

“Interesting.” Mace said thoughtfully. “Very interesting.”

* * *

 Everyone had assembled outside the castle doors as they were waiting for the arrival of the Tyrells. Robb had taken up a place between his father and Uncle Benjen. His mother seemed mad at him, and he didn’t want to push it, especially when her lips were in a thin line like that.

Robb knew Lord Mace at once, from Margaery’s descriptions of her father, and he stood slightly straighter as he rode into the castle yard. He wanted to make a good impression. The party came to a stop in front of them, and Lord Mace dismounted, heading to his father while someone Robb suspected was Loras went to open the door of the wheelhouse.

“Lord Stark!” Mace Tyrell enthused. “It’s an honour to meet you again in such better circumstances. Thank you for inviting us to your home.”

“Lord Tyrell.” Ned said, shaking his hand. “Please, call me Ned. You are welcome here. May I introduce my wife Catelyn.”

“Lady Stark.” Mace said, with a courtly bow, touching her hand politely.

“My brother Benjen, First Ranger of the Night’s Watch, come all the way from The Wall to meet you.”

“Always a pleasure to meet a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch.” Mace said, pleased that his visit had created such a stir up North, and proving that unlike what his wife thought, they _did_ respect him and take him seriously.

“And this is my son…”

* * *

 Margaery had been forced back into the wheelhouse at her mother’s command when they were close to Winterfell. Margaery pouted, but obeyed, relaxing somewhat as her mother used the time to redo Margaery’s hair as best she could. Thanks to Grandmother’s help, Margaery’s dress was lovely, Tyrell green, but edged and lined with grey fur, and a matching cloak. Still, she worried. “Do I look okay?”

“You look lovely.” Alerie reassured her daughter as the wheelhouse came to a stop. Margaery was on her feet in a second, but it didn’t matter. She came last in precedence and so she had to wait until Alerie had gracefully left the wheelhouse, and then Grandmother made her usual show of leaning on footmen, her cane and Loras to get out before she was able to get out of the stuffy carriage standing between her and Robb. She wriggled impatiently as Loras returned to the wheelhouse to help her out, and took his arm, but once she was on the solid stone, she dropped it quickly, and her eyes zeroed in on who she was here to see. All manners were forgotten in childlike excitement, and she ran past her grandmother and Loras, toward where her father was greeting the Starks. “ _Robb!_ ” She called excitedly, giving a little skip over one of the uneven stones she knew would trip her up from visiting Winterfell in dreams. They had gotten better at showing each other their homes while they were sleeping.

Robb’s head came up as his name was called, and despite the fact that his father was in the middle of an introduction, he interrupted. “Margie!” He called back, running to meet his friend as well. She impacted his chest hard enough to make him lose his breath for a moment, but he hugged her back anyway.

“Oh, you’re _real_ .” Margaery said, hugging him close, more relieved than she could say, even though she had known he was real. It was an entirely new thing to be able to hug him like this. Dream hugs were all well and good, but  _real_ hugs were so much more.

“You too.” Robb replied, feeling like he could explode from happiness.

“Shut your mouth, Mace.” Olenna hissed under her breath to her son. “You don’t think I’d have let Margaery keep an imaginary friend, if he really _was_ imaginary, do you?”

Theon Greyjoy, however, was not so circumspect. “ _That’s_ Robb’s Margie? But...how?”

"A blessing or a curse of being born of the blood of the First Men." Benjen said to the boy in a low voice, shaking his head. "Or so I've come to think."


	12. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Robb exchange gifts and Olenna is crafty.

The adults were all various stages of disbelief, while the children were happily clinging to one another. Margaery finally ended the embrace to pull back with a smile. “I brought you a present.” She said, somewhat shyly.

“I got you a present too.” Robb admitted, going slightly pink. “But you didn’t have to, you know. You being here is like all my nameday presents at once!”

“I _wanted_ too.” Margaery said, brown eyes wide. She reached into her reticule (another gift from a shrewd Olenna) and handed him the little leather ledger she had gotten from Willas. “Here! I wrote a bit on the inside for you, and I embroidered the bookmark all by myself!”

Robb obediently opened the little leather book, and read the inscription inside, and then hugged her again, because it read: ‘ _I can’t keep account how many dreams we’ve had, or how many words we’ve said, or how much your friendship means so this is to help you account of everything else.’_

“Grandmother helped me with the words.” Margaery admitted. “But I did the bookmark al by myself!”

Robb turned to the bookmark, and smiled at her, because on it was a tiny (and slightly crooked) sigil from his house and one from hers, with R + M on it in stitches so small, it hurt his eyes to imagine anyone stitching them. “I love it!” He replied happily. “I’ll keep it always.” He paused and then flushed for a moment. “Oh...um…” He dug in a pocket to pull out a cloth bag. “I got this for you.”

Margaery went pink in happiness, and from the chill in the air, as she opened the bag and dumped the bracelet into her hand. “Oh…” She breathed softly. “It’s gorgeous! I love it!”

Robb grinned, pleased she liked it so much. “If you like it that much, I’ll get you a necklace to match when we’re older.”

“Of course I like it!” Margaery said, giving him that look she often levelled at him when she thought he was being utterly silly. “It’s so pretty!” She softened slightly. “And it’s a present from _you_.” She held out her wrist. “Will you put it on for me?”

Robb awkwardly fiddled with the clasp, until the bracelet was in place. “There.”

Margaery gave him a brilliant smile, as Grandmother Olenna reached out her wrinkled, arthritic hand to see the bracelet. “Let an old woman see, Margaery, my darling, my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

Margaery lifted her hand, letting her grandmother see, not realising that it showed it off to everyone else as well.

“It’s lovely, Margaery. Your Grandfather Luthor didn’t give me anything as nice until I picked it out myself.” Olenna smiled. “Isn’t it lovely, Mace?”

Mace looked flabbergasted, but he knew his cues well enough and only hesitated for a moment. “Er...yes, Mother, quite.”

Ned chuckled, and looked at the little girl who was beaming, still bumping into his son every few moments or touching his arm or side, as if to reassure herself that he was there. “Well, I’m sure you’re all hungry after such a long journey. My men will see to your things, and Catelyn has prepared a feast for your visit, Lord Tyrell. Shall we adjourn to dinner?”

“Of course, Lord Stark, of course.” Mace agreed easily.


	13. A Northern Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned finds out his part in Margaery's life, and then arranges some entertainment for the next day.

The feast was sumptuous, Catelyn had worked hard to ensure that the delegates of Highgarden could find no flaw or missing element in her table. Despite that, the air was tense and awkward for almost everyone. Olenna refused to even consider awkwardness except how she could use it, and Robb and Margaery were too wrapped up in finally meeting to pick up on the undercurrents at the table.

Finally, Margaery looked up at the head of the table and offered Ned Stark a smile. “Lord Stark, after this wonderful feast, can…” After a sharp look from her mother, Margaery amended her statement. “ _ May _ Robb and I visit the Godswood?” She requested, hands folded politely on her lap. “I want to thank the gods for getting here safe.”

“You pray in the Godswood, Margaery?” Ned asked, his eyebrows going up in surprise. “I didn’t know there were any true godswoods left in The Reach.”

“Oh yes,” Olenna said with a chuckle. “The girl’s prayed at trees for going on a year now. It’s entirely your fault, Lord Stark.”

“My fault?” Ned repeated.

“Margaery, tell Lord Stark what you told Willas and I.” Olenna encouraged.

“You prayed in the godswood for Sansa.” Margaery said with a guileless smile at the flummoxed Warden of the North. “Robb told me, and Sansa was well.” She shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I started praying at our Godswood, and everything I’ve prayed for in the Godswood came true. I got to come north and see  _ snow _ , and after Willas fell from his horse I prayed at the Godswood that he wouldn’t die and he  _ didn’t _ ,  _ and  _ that the girls would stop teasing me and they  _ did _ ,  _ and _ that I would get to come visit Robb here when I was awake and here I am!” She nodded smartly, as if her evidence was incontrovertible.

“Our Godswood was planted by Garth Greenhand.” Willas offered, from his seat. “There are three weirwoods, called the Three Singers.”

“But they’ve all grown together.” Robb put in. “You can’t tell where one stops and the next one starts.”

“May we,  _ please _ ?” Margaery asked, politely, hands clasped as she looked up at him. 

“Margaery, Winterfell is as big as Highgarden!” Loras said, eyes wide. “Aren’t you afraid of getting lost?”

“It’s just by the guest house and armory, Loras.” Margaery said, with an eyeroll at him. “Not at the center of a maze, like home.”

“I’ll be glad to accompany you to our Godswood.” Ned said with a nod. “I want to stop by the kennels. I’ve heard you’re fond of hunting and hawking, Lord Tyrell. I thought we might spend some time in the Wolfswood tomorrow.”

Mace’s eyes lit up at the word ‘hunt’ in much the same way Willas’s did at the word ‘kennels.’ “”That sounds quite enjoyable, Lord Stark, but I insist you call me Mace.”

“Only if you call me Ned, then.” Ned responded easily, watching out of the corner of his eye as Robb and Margaery both looked like their namedays had come early. He wanted to keep that look on his son’s face, and if a little hunting and hawking would do it, it was not terribly unlike time spent with Robert. “I think this will be the beginning of a lasting friendship, Mace."


End file.
